


Principal Angelus

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-23 22:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17691884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Andrew finds out what happens all those times Spike is called to the Principal's office, to his deep regret.





	Principal Angelus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emmatheslayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmatheslayer/gifts).



> This is for **emmatheslayer** who asked for Spike/Andrew High School AU
> 
> Some questionable consent, loads of voyuerism.

Spike. The very name oozed sexuality. Even teachers called him Spike, and he stalked through the hallways of Sunnydale High like he owned them.   
  
He’d leave Principal Angelus’s office looking like he’d just had a chat among equals, not a dressing-down for skipping class. Andrew followed with his eyes, knowing he could never dare attain so much as a glance from that lofty height. Not only was Spike a senior and the coolest boy in school, even if he had been a freshman like Andrew and in the D&D club, he was still straight. Spike could almost be called “flamboyantly heterosexual” for the way he and his girlfriend Drusilla adhered to one another.  
  
No, Andrew was doomed to a love unrequited, useful only for the composition of sonnets, none of which his English teacher, Mr. Giles, appreciated.   
  
To love from afar was sweet agony, but Andrew later wished he could have stayed in that tortured state. It all started one day after school.  
  
Andrew knew Spike had afternoon detention, but that wasn’t ENTIRELY the reason he’d volunteered to monitor the computer lab after school.  
  
It was the reason he stayed until precisely the time detention ended, and timed his own leaving so that Spike would have to bump into him.  
  
Andrew poked his head out of the library, looking at the door to the detention room. He saw Willy the Snitch leave and Buffy, the cheerleader who always seemed to be getting in trouble.   
  
No Spike. Andrew had seen him go in! All the other students had left. The door opened. Andrew started walking casually, slowly, so he would juuuust run into whoever came out. He hit a little harder than intended, arm brushing… tweed?  
  
Mr. Giles looked down at him with annoyance. “Watch where you are going.”  
  
Andrew staggered back, looking from Mr. Giles to the door to the detention room. “Where’s Spike?” he blurted.  
  
Mr. Giles frowned down at him. “I am not my student’s keeper. Thank goodness.”  
  
“Uh… I mean, he was supposed to meet me. For tutoring. I’m tutoring him. Uh… in math.”  
  
Giles narrowed one eye and Andrew felt a blush creep over his cheeks. Mr. Giles turned on his heel and continued on his way down the corridor. “The principal took him to his office. Why he thinks any amount of instruction will benefit William Pratt is beyond me, but let him sow his pearls where he may.”  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Giles, sir!” Andrew scampered toward the principal’s office.  
  
He stopped in front of the translucent glass door to the outer office. What was he doing? He couldn’t just waltz into the principals office and make it look like an accident. And what would he say? How could he say it?  
  
Standing in the hall, in indecision, wondering if he could just wait there for Spike to leave, Andrew heard a muffled thump, like a body hitting a wall. He stiffened, anxious. Was Principal Angelus engaging in illegal corporal punishment? There was a smack, then, loud and clear, and a choked sob that was definitely Spike’s voice and something powerful overtook Andrew’s heart. He charged into the office with a haze of red on the edges of his vision. He kicked the principal’s door open and shouted, “STOP!”  
  
Four eyes stared at him, two expressions of equal shock, and Andrew was slowly aware that what he was looking at was not mere corporal punishment. Why was Spike on one knee, one hand on the back of the chair behind him, and why was Principal Angelus in front of his desk with one hand on the back of Spike’s neck, and his other hand…  
  
It was very warm in the little office, the air thick with sweat. Andrew wondered if you could explode from the pressure of blood in your skin. Realizing he was staring at his principal’s exposed cock, he quickly dropped his eyes to the floor. He took a step back.  
  
“Stay right there,” Principal Angelus said, in a voice that brooked no argument.  
  
Andrew stared hard at the scratched linoleum. “I thought I heard… uh… I’ll go now.”  
  
“No, Mr. Wells, you will not.”  
  
“Crissakes, Angelus,” Spike muttered. “Let him go. I’ll do what you want.”  
  
Angelus chuckled, deep and dirty. “It’s so cute when you try to negotiate, boy. It’s not like you weren’t going to give it up like a little bitch. No, I think this young man needs an education. I know you, Andrew Wells – not very subtle are you? Haven’t learned how to hide your desires, open and fragile. Deliciously hurtable. Would you like to watch while I fuck this young hooligan’s mouth?”  
  
He asked it so casually, like he was asking if he’d like a sandwich. “No, thank you,” Andrew said, breathless.  
  
“No?”  
  
Andrew turned to run for it, but suddenly Principal Angelus blocked his way, and that large hand was now on HIS neck. “Easy, there, boy. You weren’t going to tell anyone about this, were you?”  
  
“N-no sir. I’m a coward.”  
  
Angelus’ hand was hot and heavy on his neck. “Hm. Well, I have an idea that will help you keep that mouth shut.” He pushed Andrew forward, toward the desk. “I’m going to give you something you’ve always wanted.”  
  
“You really, really don’t have to. I never told anyone about the time Warren drilled a hole through to the girl’s locker room. Until now. And that’s only under extreme duress, which I’m unlikely to suffer on account of, uh… what are you doing?”  
  
Angelus guided Andrew into a chair and stepped back, next to Spike who had a worrisomely tired expression on his face.  
  
“I want the two of you to put on a little show for me.”  
  
Spike roused enough to state, “No, you giant perverted pouf.”  
  
Angelus hit him with a backhand that echoed in the small office. Andrew cringed deeper into his chair.  
  
“Go on, William. It’s not like you’ve never done this before.” Angelus turned his back on them, that unconcerned they would escape, as he rummaged in his desk. “I’m going to take a few photos to remember this by. Maybe form the basis of a painting: the innocent and the whore.”  
  
“And provide yourself with some nice counter-blackmail,” Spike said.  
  
“For shame, William. Art is always for Art’s own sake.”  
  
A bright flash blinded Andrew for a moment. He blinked back tears to find Spike’s very handsome face just in front of his. Principal Angelus was right – it was something he’d always wanted, just not like this. He licked his dry lips and tried to come up with the right words to explain.  
  
Spike’s cheek brushed his. “It’ll be over in less than a minute.”  
  
Not exactly the tender endearments Andrew had hoped for. “You could beat him up,” Andrew suggested.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
“Less talk,” Angelus said, “More show. Come on, off with those shirts. I want to see you together.”  
  
Spike pulled on Andrew’s T-shirt. “No!” Andrew said. He twisted, arms clenched to his sides. “I’m going to start working out. Tomorrow. Eventually. I’ve been sick. I…”  
  
Spike huffed, then leaned forward. Suddenly, a cool, wet tongue flicked over Andrew’s ear. He gasped and went rigid. His t-shirt hit the wall behind him. Andrew quickly tried to cover his too-thin chest with his hands.  
  
Spike stepped back, looking smug as he tore his own shirt off. His hair looked really good tousled from pulling the fabric over it, and his chest… Andrew was momentarily mesmerized, forgetting his own shyness.  
  
“Look at that,” Angelus said. His chair creaked as he leaned back. “Fresh as a ripe apricot. Too bad Spike’s not as clean and pure.”  
  
“Yeah I wonder whose fault that is,” Spike muttered.  
  
Angelus’ elbow moved and he sighed, and Andrew realized with sudden horror that the principal was jerking off in front of them. He didn’t think he could blush any harder. He tried to get up and leave, but Spike held him down easily with one hand on either shoulder, and that put Spike’s chest at eye-level, and its beauty quite weakened him.  
  
Then Spike was straddling his lap, and his lips were pressing against his – cold and hard. Andrew made a muffled sound of shock even as his dick launched into full hardness, a wonton organ with no respect for its owner’s feelings.   
  
Still, Andrew held his lips closed and did not give in to temptation, pressing them tightly as Spike’s tongue teased and pressed and pried. Spike leaned back and sighed. “Mate, you’re going to have to work with me, here.”  
  
“I don’t want to do this. Look, I… I have to tell you… please…” He blushed even harder. “I’m a virgin!”  
  
Spike shrugged. “Doesn’t matter with blokes.” He brushed his lips over Andrew’s ear. “We only have to play along until the old perv pops. Won’t take long.”  
  
“Oh,” Andrew said, and as his lips parted for that sound, Spike dove in, and well, Andrew wasn’t made of STONE.  
  
Spike kissed with talent and passion, seeming to lay claim to every part of Andrew’s mouth and then back off sweetly, varying pressure and depth and…. Andrew was in love. Absolute love. His own motions were inexperienced, fumbling, but Spike guided him, and they began to achieve a rhythm.  
  
Then Spike’s hand closed on the crown of Andrew’s erection and he nearly bit his tongue. Or someone’s tongue. He was losing track.  
  
Spike broke from him to say, “Easy. There’s a sport.” And he started unbuttoning Andrew’s fly. Andrew grabbed Spike’s hands.  
  
“Get your cocks out,” Angelus said. “You’re boring me.”  
  
Spike sighed heavily, his breath warm and wet against Andrew’s cheek. “Let go,” he said. “If we don’t get moving, he’ll decide to be more ‘hands on’ and you don’t want that.”  
  
“But…”  
  
“Shh.” Spike kissed him. “Just hang on. Like I said, it’ll be over quickly enough.” Spike yanked Andrew’s zipper down. “Specially if it’s your first time.”  
  
Andrew’s dick jumped eagerly into the air, straining his boxers without shame. Spike grabbed his waistband and pulled it down, exposing him to the air. Andrew turned his blushing face to his shoulder.  
  
“There. That’s not so bad, eh? What a pretty cock.”  
  
Spike’s fingers closed around him, and Andrew felt like he was going to explode right then. He bit his lip and gripped the chair hard, willing himself not to come that second.  
  
Thankfully, Spike just gave it a squeeze and let go. He stepped back and unbuttoned his jeans. With a proud tilt of his head, he lowered his fly one inch at a time, then swayed his hips, lowering his jeans like he was peeling fruit.  
  
Angelus leaned over his desk, his lower lip glistening as he stared.  
  
Spike stepped out of his jeans and stretched. How did he do that, Andrew wondered, how did he stand there like being naked was as natural as anything?  
  
Andrew realized he’d touched himself. He covered his face with his hands.  
  
Spike peeled his hands free and held them while he kissed him, long and slow and dirty. Andrew freed one hand to feel the smooth chest and shoulders in front of him. Spike was bent over. It must have been a hell of a view from the principal’s desk, and Andrew was vaguely aware of rhythmic slapping sounds and grunting coming from that quarter.  
  
Spike’s free hand dropped to Andrew’s lap and teased the underside of his dick, tickling light touches that made Andrew want to crawl out of his skin.   
  
Then Spike broke off his kiss and dropped his lips to the tip of Andrew’s cock, kissing it instead. Andrew levitated, he was pretty sure, a good four inches off his chair, and cried out in shock and pleasure and horror and feeling so intense it had no name.  
  
Spike’s dexterous tongue lapped and curled around the head of Andrew’s dick and he cried out and found himself gripping Spike’s hair. Stiffened with gel, his curls crinkled in Andrew’s grip, but he wasn’t sure if he was trying to push him off or pull him closer.  
  
I’m getting a blow job, he thought, and was still staring in dumbfounded shock when, seeming to belong to someone else, ropes of glittering semen shot all over Spike’s face and hair.  
  
Spike looked up at him, smirking through streaks of come. “Said it wouldn’t take long,” he said.  
  
Andrew felt heavy and confused and wondered if his blush was strong enough, perhaps, to burn a hole through the floor and bury him.  
  
Angelus grunted. “That was too quick. Get over here.”  
  
Spike gripped the sides of Andrew’s chair and his head dropped. “Fuck,” he said.  
  
Andrew watched as through a fog as Spike stood up and sauntered to the desk. Angelus shot out of his chair and smacked Spike. “That’s for being quick,” he said, and grabbed Spike by the hair.  
  
“Fuck you, Angelus.”  
  
“No, lad, quite the reverse.”  
  
When Spike’s stomach hit the desk, scattering papers and pens, Andrew woke up. He took off.  
  
He was halfway to the library before he realized his pants were open and he had no shirt on.   
  
This was a horrible, horrible dream. He ran into the nearest men’s room. He stared at himself in the greasy mirrors. He should look different. He just looked shirtless and tear-streaked. He touched his tacky cheek. When had he cried?  
  
He washed his face and waited in the bathroom until he heard Angelus’ heavy footsteps leaving the building an hour later.  
  
***  
  
Andrew tried to convince his mother he was sick the next morning, but it was to no avail.   
  
His best friend, Jonathan, stared at him on the bus. “What is with you?”  
  
Andrew walked into the high school with a sense of foreboding and a strange inverse of his usual desire to find where Spike was and look at him.  
  
Never before had his intimate knowledge of the other boy’s schedule and habits come in more handy. An imaginary no-enter zone followed Spike around in Andrew’s mind. He even considered skipping the one class he had with him.  
  
But then, as fate would have it – capricious fate! Spike broke his usual routine. Andrew turned the corner to the wood shop, looking forward to the next step in his construction of the best darn shop project ever – a display shelf shaped like the millennium falcon with niches perfect for four inch miniatures. He was relaxed, knowing Spike at this time of day would be cutting his gym class to smoke behind the bleachers.  
  
Instead, inexplicably, Spike was there, leaning against the wall of the long, dark, little-used corridor to the wood shop. He and the guy he was talking to both turned to look at Andrew.  
  
Andrew stopped dead in his tracks.  
  
Spike took a toothpick from his mouth and casually looked away. “Let’s scarper, Gunn, I’m famished.”  
  
“I can’t skip fourth period,” Gunn said. “I’ve got a test.”  
  
Spike groaned. “You’re just hot for that science teacher with the man’s name.”  
  
“Winifred isn’t a man’s name.”  
  
And, bantering back and fourth, the two older boys walked past Andrew like he wasn’t even there.  
  
Andrew stayed where he was until the harsh sound of the late bell jolted him into a run.  
  
His tears dripped in the varnish on his display shelf and the shop teacher let him leave to see the school nurse. Instead, Andrew cut school for the first time, ever. He walked right past the office – he wouldn’t dream of setting foot in there! – and outside. He didn’t know why he’d never tried before. There was no security guard, no barbed wire – just a door.  
  
He stood blinking in the sun on the concrete apron where the buses dropped people off, wondering if he should just walk home, when someone grabbed him.  
  
Spike shoved Andrew against a tree, around a corner of the school building where few could see them. “Oi, moron. What was that? Staring at me and my mate like that? Why don’t you just tell the whole school?”  
  
“I-I…”  
  
“I did what I could for you last night. I expect some bloody appreciation. From now on, you don’t notice me, got it? I don’t even exist.”  
  
“I was trying to. You weren’t supposed to be there. You smoke behind the bleachers during third period.”  
  
Spike raised his eyebrows. “Well, that was creepily well-informed.”  
  
“What about Drusilla?”  
  
Spike, looking very confused, released Andrew and stepped back. “What about her?”  
  
“Does she know? About… about Angelus?”  
  
Spike looked like he was going to laugh. “Course she bloody KNOWS. He’s her father. Won’t let us date unless he gets his turn in.”  
  
It was Andrew’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Her… but…”  
  
“She uses her mum’s last name. Messy divorce.” Shaking his head, Spike got out a cigarette and lit it. “Look, little man, just keep out of sight, and if you get sent to the principal’s office, take my advice and scarper. Or insist on your teacher coming with you.” He blew smoke and frowned. “Oh, any teacher but Mr. Giles. That wanker’s in on it.”  
  
Spike… trapped in a love triangle with a manipulative professor and principal. Oh, and his girlfriend. She didn’t figure very large in the vivid picture forming in Andrew’s mind. Spike… passing between hands… keeping silent… for love. “I will rescue you!” Andrew blurted.  
  
Spike looked appraisingly at Andrew, shook his head, and walked off.  
  
***  
  
Andrew stared at Mr. Giles all through study hall. He never noticed before how the school librarian was a very virile man, commanding even.  
  
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and concentrated on writing out convincing reasons to spy on the principal.  
  
***  
  
When he enlisted Andrew and Warren’s help rigging the principal’s office with cameras, Andrew didn’t even have to give his convoluted excuse.  
  
“That’s awesome,” Warren said. “I can steal this high-def camera from my dad’s work. It’ll let us see documents. Grades. Suspensions. Blackmail material.”  
  
“I’m going along with this purely for practical experience,” Jonathan said. “I’ve always wanted to write a spy novel.”  
  
Warren wrote a program that would detect and record only when someone was in the office, and highlight interesting activity – anything with a lot of movement. It didn’t take long. Two days later, Warren announced he had footage to view. He led Jonathan and Andrew into the boy’s locker room, clutching his laptop to his chest.  
  
Andrew bit his lips. “Maybe… why don’t we just… one of us watch the footage? At a time? I’ll take the first shift. It could be boring.”  
  
“You’re crazy,” Jonathan said.  
  
Warren was already typing on the laptop. Its light bathed his face. The blue flickered, became a reflection of motion. “Here we are,” Warren said. “Looks like… heh. Someone’s getting chewed out. No big shock. It’s… uh…” Warren’s mouth opened wide.  
  
Andrew felt angry when he saw how Warren stared.  
  
Jonathan peeked around the laptop screen. “What is it? What are you—OH SWEET JESUS.” Jonathan covered his face. “We need to call the police. Now.”  
  
Warren snapped the laptop shut before Andrew could see. “This is… no offense, Andrew, but you’re a freshman. You don’t need to see that.”  
  
***  
  
When Principal Angelus was arrested, the school was filled with jubilation and shock, people tumbling out of classrooms to watch the perp walk down the corridor, the flashing blue and red lights.  
  
Andrew felt a swell in his chest. I DID THIS, he thought. His eyes met Jonathan’s, and they exchanged a quiet, proud nod.  
  
Spike pushed through the crowd until he was standing right in front of Andrew. “I don’t know how you did it,” he said. “But I know it was you.”  
  
“Uh… I… we…” Andrew looked to Jonathan. Jonathan was blushing and looking away.  
  
Spike kissed him, light, on the cheek. “Thanks,” he said.  
  
Andrew touched his cheek, cupping around the spot to preserve the feather-light memory as he watched Spike wend his way back through the press of bodies to wherever he had come from.  
  
Jonathan elbowed him. “Looks like someone’s got a new boyfriend!”  
  
“No!” Andrew said, and laughed, and hoped it was true.  
  
THE END


End file.
